


Here Be Dragons

by elaine



Series: Sentinel and Harper [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J'mellison has been a dragon rider and sentinel for several Turns and he thinks he has everything under control. But, following an indiscretion after a mating flight, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Be Dragons

Someone had crept in during the night and removed all of his bones. J’mellison smiled complacently and snuggled a little closer to the warm body in his bed. There was nothing –  _nothing_  in the world – like dragon enhanced sex, even if his bronze hadn’t been strong or determined enough to rise to Zanth’s mating.

At this moment, he couldn’t even summon up much disappointment; there’d always be another chance, after all. And meanwhile… he trailed his hand lazily over warm, sleep-relaxed skin, his cock stirring with anticipation. No reason why they couldn’t continue this morning what had stared yesterday afternoon and lasted well into the night.

Now, if only he could remember who it was he’d bedded in his dragon-induced lust – another rider, surely, but who? He tried to remember which of the female riders had been present at Benden when Zanth rose in her mating flight, but his mind was still hazed and drowsy.

Well, no matter. He stroked lightly over a smooth firmly muscled arm, down to her hip and then over to… well, Fardles! That was a complication, J’mellison thought. He hoped it wasn’t anyone he knew well. Preferably not anyone from Benden Weyr or Hold. What happened as a result of mating flights was considered by all to be outside the commonplace, but all things considered, he’d rather not have to see the face of his bed partner day in, day out.

The body spooned up against his chest and groin squirmed and a soft moan drifted out of the mass of dark curls that had so deceived J’mellison upon wakening. He couldn’t be one of the male riders, not with that mop. By all that was holy, J’mellsion hoped it wasn’t some Holder’s son. Holders generally took a dim view of the ‘shenanigans’ of the dragon riders when it came to bedding their daughters, and even more so in the case of their sons. His own father had cast him off when he’d Impressed and never contacted him since.

J’mellison thrust the thought away and replaced his hand over the softly swelling cock. He wouldn’t mind another tumble before breakfast, if the fellow was willing, and it seemed likely that he was. He buried his face against warm, musk scented skin and moved his hand lazily over the stirring evidence of his bedmate’s interest, drawing another moan, soft and low and sweetly resonant. J’mellison might prefer a woman in his bed, but he had no objection to a tasty morsel like this one now and again.

“Hunnhh?” The kid twitched awake, half turning in his arms, his face hidden by long, fuzzy strands of hair. “Wha..zit?”

Hairy little fellow, J’mellison thought in amusement, though not little where it counted. He scraped his fingernails over the soft, coarse whorls of hair to tweak an already hardening nipple. “Are you always this much of a sleepyhead? The morning’s well advanced.”

In fact, his hearing told him if he wanted breakfast this would have to be an exceedingly quick tumble, or he’d find the trestles cleared and a mug of klah his only sustenance until lunchtime. He shifted his hand back down to stroke his own cock to hardness, nudging the other fellow with his hip. “If you want breakfast, we’ll need to hurry.”

“Breakfast? What… who…?” Finally, the compact figure erupted out of the nest of blankets, his chest heaving, and hair flying as his head whipped around to face J’mellison. “ _Fuck_! Whattinell?”

Suddenly J’mellison was alone in his bed and the young man was halfway across the chamber, his blue eyes wide with shock. J’mellison dropped back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh. Judging by his reaction the kid was undoubtedly a Holder’s son.

Well, that put paid to any hope of sex this morning. The other probable consequences – complaints from some minor Holder about the corruption of his son’s innocence, a severe dressing down from Weyrleader Joris for upsetting the holder-folk, and no doubt a bawdy song or two at his expense – he’d think about those later. Right now, a piss and breakfast were all that he had to look forward to.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to hang around a weyr when there’s a mating flight, boy?” He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and scratched his belly lazily. “Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He repressed a sudden sense-memory of a hot, tight channel and eager moans with some regret. “Go tumble some crofter girl and reassert your manhood. You’ll be fine.”

The kid glared at him. “I’m not… I don’t…”

“Whatever…” J’mellison waved a dismissive hand. “I’m going to piss. I daresay you’d rather be gone by the time I’ve finished.”

***

“Another headache?” Healer Lorinen smiled sympathetically at J’mellison as he dropped onto the hard wooden bench outside her room. “That’s, what…  the third in five days?”

“And a gut’s ache.” He rubbed his belly resentfully. “I’m getting a rash too.”

“Hmm.” She inspected him from head to foot, a thoughtful frown pleating her forehead. “You’d better come in, then, and get those clothes off. I’ll need to examine you thoroughly.”

In spite of his discomfort, J’mellison grinned. Lorinen might be well into her fifties, but she still had an eye for a well-muscled body, and there was no doubting the waft of pheromones that came off her at the prospect. “Only if you promise to molest me.”

She laughed and ushered him into the examining room. Ten minutes later, there wasn’t the hint of a smile in evidence and the pheromones had been replaced with a tang of distress.

“What is it?” J’mellison asked apprehensively. “Not the wasting sickness?” Anything but that…

“No. There’s no sign of any tumours.” She rubbed a forefinger over her lower lip. “I don’t know… Fardles! Of course!”

“What?” Baffled by the sudden change of attitude, J’mellison barely refrained from grabbing and shaking the Healer. “What is it?”

“I’m a fardling idiot, that’s what.” She laughed, he face alight with relief. “Rider, when was the last time you had sex? At the mating flight? And when did your headaches start?”

That was easy. They’d started the following day.

“Eggs… not the clap!” He sank down onto the bench with his head in his hands. He could still taste the foul brew she’d given him last time.

“No. Not at all.” Amusement simmered in her voice. “Who were you with, J’mellison?”

“Some kid.” He shrugged, not interested in discussing that little mess. He could only count himself lucky there hadn’t been a formal complaint so far. “I don’t know his name. I don’t know anything about him.” He scowled up at her. “I don’t see what’s so fardling funny about this.”

“I suppose not.” She grinned unrepentantly. “It was so obvious I didn’t even think of it! J’mellison, you need to find that young man. He’s your Guide.”

***

A Guide! Sweet, fardling eggs. The last thing he needed was to have some screwed up kid in his life, ordering him around, taking control. He’d done fine so far without one; a few headaches were a small price to pay for his freedom. Except his headaches got worse, and he couldn’t keep any food down, and his skin felt like it was on fire. The next Thread pass over Benden territory was due in just over a week, and a rider who couldn’t fly Thread was no use to anyone.

“You should also consider,” Lorinen lectured him severely, “that this young man may well be experiencing symptoms of a partially completed bond. It’s your responsibility, Sentinel, to protect your Guide.”

Rumbling agreement from his bronze echoed through J’mellison’s mind. “All  _right_! I’ll find him – somehow – and then you can find a way to terminate this bond. You can, can’t you?”

She shook her head. “Ask anyone – from Master Healer Taen down to the lowliest apprentice, they’ll all tell you the same. Once a bond’s started there’s no way to break it short of death.”

So that was it. The end of all his hopes – he’d be tied to some ignorant holder boy who probably thought sex with another man would shrivel off his own manhood. The bond would ensure that he was unable to have sex with anyone else. And when the gold queens rose to mate, his own bronze, unable to draw from him the strength and determination needed, would never succeed in mating, meaning that J’mellison would remain forever in the ranks of the might-have-beens.

He groaned. “Just kill me now.”

A firm pat on his shoulder offered no sympathy whatsoever. “Go find him, J’mellison. You need your Guide and he needs you.”

***

It took surprisingly little time to locate his Guide. A brief but vivid mental image of the young man was circulated amongst the dragons, causing ripples of amusement throughout the weyrs – since the only memory J’mellison had of him was standing stark naked and tousle-haired in his chamber. It could have been worse, he supposed. Master Blair of the Harpers Craft Hall should at least be a little more accommodating than an ignorant holder.

Within the hour, he was on his way to Fort Hold, his heart pumping furiously, his mouth dry with dread. The sting of  _between_  was harder to bear than it had been ever since his Sentinel abilities had come upon him five turns past. That, too, was due to the incomplete bond, Lorinen had told him.

He emerged from  _between_  hovering low over the Harper Hall, and sending a trumpeting of alarm through the herd beasts and goats of the Hold. The dragons, of course, were expecting him. He instructed his bronze to land with a curt mental command and strode into the Hall in search of his Guide.

“You. Girl.” He beckoned over a girl of maybe twelve turns, wearing an apprentice’s badge. “I’m looking for Master Blair.”

“He… he’ll be in the archives, I reckon.” She pointed the way, and J’mellison turned away with a muttered ‘thank you’, ignoring the excited whispers of the other apprentices. No doubt one of them would compose a damn song about this day. He cringed inside at the thought of it being sung in his father’s Hold.

His father would probably pop a vein, he thought, and felt a surge of venomous satisfaction. Lord Holder Ellis had hated the thought of his eldest son being a Sentinel, and had beaten it out of him as a child, or so he’d thought. Then J’mellison had Impressed a bronze eight turns back – in Ellis’s mind the only fate worse than having a Sentinel in the family – and escaped Nabol Hold with his father’s curse ringing in his ears.

It had taken nearly four turns for the Sentinel abilities to reassert themselves, when J’mellison was sent on a reconnaissance mission to the Southern Continent with only his dragon for company. Although discomforting for a time, with the help of the Healers, J’mellison had learned how to control his senses and use them for the benefit of his Weyr.

Still, in the back of his mind, he remembered all too vividly his father’s disdain at the thought that anyone other than himself might have any influence over his son. He’d alternately intimidated and ridiculed J’mellison into suppressing his abilities and hiding their existence from the Healers who visited the Hold intermittently. The Hold’s own Healer had been elderly, with failing eyesight and weakening powers of reason; easily duped into believing that the eldest son of the Lord Holder was a laggard who used imaginary illnesses as an excuse to shirk his duties.

He’d rejected so many of the things his father had told him, but this fear remained strong. He was essentially putting his life into the hands of a complete stranger, one he had no reason to trust.

He paused at the door labelled ‘Artifact Storage Room 3’, gathering his resolve. If what Lorinen had told him was true, once he met his Guide again – this Master Blair – the urge to complete their bond would be overwhelming, little different from the compulsion that came over riders and dragons alike when the queens rose to mate. Maybe he should have taken the Healer’s advice to send another rider to fetch the Harper to Benden Weyr.

J’mellison squared his shoulders. It was too late now, and he would make an even bigger fool of himself by retreating now.

_Maybe it won’t be so bad._

“Eggs, don’t  _you_  start now.” He sighed sharply. All he needed was for his bronze to interfere, especially at this delicate point. Dragons weren’t exactly known for their subtlety. “Just stay out of it until… well, until.”

Immediately, he was alone in his head, a disconcerting sensation after eight years. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

***

J’mellison hadn’t thought his day could get any worse. He’d been wrong. So very wrong. As little as he wanted a Guide, it seemed his Guide wanted a Sentinel even less. And was expressing that dissatisfaction volubly and at length, with a large helping of disbelief thrown in for good measure.

He stalked over to the Harper, looming over him – he was almost a head shorter – and staring down at him until the spate of words eased enough for him to get a word in. “You’re not getting it here, Chief. It’s not a matter of whether you  _want_  to be my Guide. You  _are_  my Guide. It’s already done.”

“And I’m telling you, I didn’t spend six turns –  _six turns_ , man – studying to become the youngest Master  _ever_  in the history of the Harpers Hall just so I could give it all up to become some rider’s little woman. I don’t even swing that way, if you get what I mean.” Wide blue eyes stared earnestly up into his. “Go get someone else, man. You know you don’t want me.”

“Damn right I don’t  _want_  you.” J’mellison grabbed the little nuisance by the front of his tunic and lifted him up to eye level –  _his_  eye level – ignoring the Harper’s yelp of alarm as he hit the wall behind him. “I’ll tell you one more time. I’m a Sentinel. You’re a Guide. We’ve started to bond and there’s no way to undo it – believe me, I’ve asked everyone who knows anything about it. We’re stuck with each other and the only way we can deal with this is to complete the bond.”

“But I’m not…” Master Blair winced.

“Headache?” asked J’mellison calmly.

Blair nodded warily.

“Had it for around seven days, on and off?”

“Uh… yeah, but drinking klah and bark tea helps.”

“Started right after that night we had sex?” He saw the first glimmerings of alarm with satisfaction. About time. “Feeling nauseous too? Itchy skin?” All the symptoms  _he’d_  been suffering, just not as intense. That’s what Lorinen had told him would happen. He felt a surge of arousal course through him as Blair swallowed and nodded. “It’s the bond.”

“But…”

He pushed closer, felt Blair’s erection press against his own. “We don’t have a choice in this. So let’s just get it done and then we can figure out what to do next.”

“I’m not gonna…” the words trailed off into a groan as J’mellison thrust against him, grinding his cock into Blair’s with sudden desperation. Blair’s fingers tightened on his shoulders and his legs wrapped around J’mellison’s hips. “ _Fuck_ , yes… there… oh, sweet fardling  _eggs_ …”

It was over in an astonishingly short time. J’mellison felt his balls contract, his cock pulse sharply, taking his breath away. He knew that Blair had climaxed at the exact same instant, and felt another level of the bond settle into place. Above them his bronze roared approval, and then a chorus of assent from the other dragons. J’mellison sagged against the wall with Blair still trapped in his embrace.

“Uh… can you…” Blair wriggled against him and J’mellison stepped back, one hand steadying his Guide as his feet touched the floor. “Thanks. So, what now?”

J’mellison shrugged. “We go back to Benden Weyr. The Healer there, Lorinen, wants to examine us, make sure we’re okay.”

“And then?” It didn’t take a Sentinel to hear the doubt in Blair’s voice.

“Well, she said it takes time for the bond to fully develop. So I guess we’ll need a little, uh… alone time.” He couldn’t quite meet Blair’s eyes. Instead he caught hold of his upper arm and started leading him out of the office. “There’s another Pass in six days, I need to be on top of this by then.”

“Wait. Wait, dammit!” Blair dug his heels in, and grabbed the door frame for good measure. “If you think I’m going to be on my back for you for the next six days…”

“Back, front, I don’t mind.” J’mellison’s grin faded when he saw how freaked Blair was. “Look, we’ll work it out, I promise you. I don’t have the answers any more than you do.”

_You’re not going to hurt him, are you?_

J’mellison sighed. “No, I’m not going to hurt him.” He caught Blair’s surprised look, swiftly followed by comprehension. “You think  _you’ve_  got problems. I’ve got a Guide  _and_  an overgrown flying lizard to deal with.”

_Am not a lizard._

“No, you’re a fat-arsed, wherry-fucking tunnel snake.” He muttered, starting back along the hallway with Blair in tow. “With wings.”

An indignant roar from over their heads set off a cacophony of chicken, goats, herd beasts and terrified children, assaulting J’mellison’s still overly sensitive ears. “Sweetheart, shut  _up_!”

Blair choked with laughter, his eyes dancing. “You call your dragon sweetheart?”

“It’s. His. Name.” J’mellison glared at his Guide as they came out into the courtyard. “You want to tell him it’s funny?”

Blair was too busy staring up at Sweetheart to reply at first. He’d probably ridden greens, and maybe even a blue occasionally, but a bronze was something else. As he watched, Blair swallowed and managed to close his sagging jaw. “Uh, no. I think it’s a cute name.”

Cute. J’mellison rolled his eyes. This was going to be… interesting.


End file.
